When you type this into your iphone email: “I’ll let you knowcloser to the date”, your phone automatically corrects it to this: “I’ll let you know loser…”

That’s a good typo to catch!

Speaking of auto-correct… I like typing the word “Oy”, as in “Oy Vey”, but everytime I type “Oy”, it gets corrected to “it”.  I really need to figure out the override on this thing, eh?


I’ve become folic-ly challenged – not surprising since I’ve heard that your hairline is determined by your mother’s father’s hairline and my grandfather was bald for as long as I can remember.

Long lost are the days of the mullet, and the crazy dark black, wavy hair. My kids never got to see that hair, but my oldest son, Linus, inserted this comment into a discussion about my hair recently:

“You’re a little bald like the ocean is a little wet!”

After realizing my mouth was wide open – not because I was upset at all – but because I was amazed and impressed with the analogy.  He’s awesome!



A couple of weeks ago there was a Toronto Police officer in his cool grey police car sitting at the end of the street where my daughter attends school because there are a whole bunch of cars who go the wrong way on this one way street.

In typical Toronto police fashion, the officer was talking to everyone who passed by, offered to answer questions and in typical Boo fashion my daughter was dying to meet the officer. After a quick meet and greet he let her sit in the car (in the front, not the back) and she was just beaming.

She wanted to take the car for a spin which he wisely declined…

There is no better way to remind children that the police are here to “Serve and Protect” than through public relations like that, unless you count last night when two mounted officers walked by our house and stopped when my kids came flying out of the house to say hello.

The officers spent a good 5-minutes with the kids, talked about safety in the area and my kids explained how their presence slowed down the traffic on our street especially at a particular stop sign close to our house where 90% of the cars barely do a rolling stop.

We also learned that apples can kill horses and that horses love carrots!

Who knew?!?

It was also the closest I’ve ever been to a horse and those babies are massive!

The mounted unit sitting on top of those horses are very intimidating to say the least, but the horses alone do that job!

Toronto’s Cops are Tops!



Lemmy from Motorhead has died! His Life Comes with a Parental Advisory: Kids Don’t Try This At Home!

Here is an example of how parenting evolves as our kids get older;

Just before the new year came news that Motörhead frontman Ian Kilmister, simply known as “Lemmy” had died after a brief battle with an aggressive form of cancer.  Kilmister – famous for his handlebar moustache, villians cowboy hat, mutton chops and a mole on his face was 70-years-old.

As I sat down to write this post, I realized at that time that I was not a Motorhead fan.  I didn’t really like their “big” hit, “Ace of Spades” and to be honest, I really knew nothing about the band until they penned the theme song for then WWE superstar Triple H / Now CEO of WWE, Hunter Hurst Helmsley.

Doing some research I learned and interesting fact about Lemmy, that he was once a roadie for legendary guitarist Jimi Hendrix, and that he formed Motörhead in 1975 after being kicked out of a band named Hawkwind.  I learned that Hawkwind was a space-rock outfit so warped, that their lead singer/poet once came onstage in a witch’s hat and attacked Lemmy with a sword.  I can’t see how he would have fit in with an outfit like that.

After all, Motörhead did okay for themselves, releasing 22 studio albums over 38 years.

But with all that what people were really talking about was the fact that Lemmy loved being on the road – claims he slept with over 1000 women – but he also claimed he was going to sell his facial warts on eBay (UGH!).  He loved the drugs and the booze and I remember reading somewhere that by 1980, his doctor told him, “You don’t have human blood any more. And you can’t give blood, either. Forget it, you’d kill the average person because you’re so toxic.”

He did “claim” in recent years to have given up his daily regimen of a bottle of Jack Daniels with Coke – in favour of vodka with healthy orange juice.

Yes, Lemmy passed away at 70-years-old, and by all accounts because of his partying and lack of attention to his health, its amazing that he did.  I feel it’s important to have that conversation with our children who hear about people like Lemmy and think that it’s okay to treat their bodies this way, because it’s just not true.

Word on the street was that Lemmy died sitting at home in front of his favourite video game.  He played rock music and he loved WWII memorabilia.  He might seem to be a rock g-d to adults who grew up thinking that was cool – but to the younger generation I think we owe it to them to also let them know both sides of everyone, and that as he aged, Lemmy had to cancel shows due to a hematoma, respiratory issues, and a heart condition for which he was fitted with a defibrillator.

Years of abuse caught up to him.  He forgot lyrics to songs, and walked off stage at concerts because he couldn’t do it anymore.

Fans of the band from back in the day and fans from their recent WWE success will mourn the musician and curious fans will read about Lemmy, the rock legend.  Hopefully there are articles about him which present both sides of the man and comes with a warning message to children…

Kids.  Don’t try this at home!

THIS is What Weighs on the Minds of the Youth of Today…

I wish that I could get into the head of my children!

It seems to be WAY more fun in there, than in the “real” world and sometimes you can just tell when you look at them that they are off in their own world probably having a great time.

Sometime I forget that children possess a combination of curiosity, and I-don’t-care in the way they look at life and when you take into account their naivety, and their innocence, its no wonder they want to be in their own little world.

But to hear what they are thinking about can come at an unexpected time and can often be refreshing and hilarious, take for example the comment blurted out in the car by my son Stewie;

“By the time I am ready to buy a car there won’t be any good license plates left…”


Yes, that might be the case, my wife and I struck with silence and as processed this odd comment, and of course, he was not finished, so he completed his thought with this;

“I’ll get stuck with a sucky license plate like Poop-so.”

So not only was he concerned that all of the good license plates will have been taken in, what, 10-15 years when he will have his own car,  but he has actually given thought to what that license plate he will be stuck with, will say.


Well, son, Poop-so is a pretty cool license plate.


What Was Your First School Instrument? What Did You Children Get?

How on earth did we pick school instruments when we were in middle school?  I had played a little piano by the time I was forced to make an uneducated choice, and it’s probably the reason why I do not play an instrument to this day despite being very musical.

So how did my son come home from school with a clarinet recently?

I think that was a great choice of instrument, considering last year his class played the banjo and the year before they were given that wannabe instrument and all around general noisemaker, the recorder.

He wanted to play the trumpet, but chose the clarinet…

Granted, my son is way more musical than me, he plays piano and will be taking his level 2 conservatory exams soon.

But boy, how the times have changed from when we were in school, right?  Or have they?!?

What instrument did you play and why?

Was it your first choice?

I remember having to face this dilemma way back in grade 6.  My best friend at the time was a drummer – taught by the drummer from Platinum Blonde – so I wanted to drum.  But with only one drum set and the need for only one drummer, I was out of luck.  Oh, and he was REALLY good, and I was really awful on the drums.

My teacher instead gave me the cymbals and the triangle.


The following year I wanted the trombone because all the trumpets were taken, but my first time using the trombone, I used the instrument to drill my friend in the back of the head (he was sitting in front of me).  That was my absolute reason for requesting the instrument… To use it as a weapon.  What was wrong with me??  But my teacher set me straight, alright.

Bye bye trombone.

She gave me the Tuba.

Little did I know back then that nobody takes the instruments which are impossible to take home to practice… But I got the instrument that I deserved.

I managed to convince the teacher that the Baratone was better (lighter), however every class my friends would toss stuff into it (like the little plastic army guys), so when my turn to play that one note came up, my instrument made either the wrong noise or no noise at all.

The upside was that carrying that beast home (I walked to and from school) made me very strong and I learned one helluva lesson.

The following year I chose the French horn!

A rather unique instrument, but was lightweight, had 3 keys and was rarely used.  So I guess I showed her, eh?  That was until she gave me a solo in one of the school concerts.  Me, my French horn and a LOT of people watching me.  Needless to say, I was sick that night of the concert, but on my BEST behaviour the rest of the year.  I had finally met my match.

If only I had selected a real instrument and actually learned it…

… Like the recorder.  lol.


What instrument do you want your child to learn?

Dinks, Doinks, Clowns and Jerks… How our conversation on the ride home from school progressed…

If only I could record everything that my children say which is either clever, hilarious or unexpected… They’re awesome and I love having conversations with them, or just listening to them, as they grow up.

The ride home from school was no exception.  It began with my play-by-play recap of my ball-hockey game last night, actually both my ball hockey games – back-to-back, but thinking about it now, I’m not sure they asked so much as I wanted to tell them.  LOL.  During the first game, I was one of three defensemen then moved to become one of 5 forwards.  There was a lot of running and there is nothing I like more than getting my money’s worth and running my ass of at these games!

What I wanted to tell my kids was about one play where an opposition player ran a pick play on me, and then my reaction.  My hope is always that by taking the higher road, I can teach my children how to react in situations like these and keep them from doing or saying something which can cause them pain or suffering.

So on this play, and I’m a big guy, the opposing player caught me with a knee in my thigh as I was chasing his teammate around the net trying to scoop the ball off of his stick.  That hit sent me flying and I was upset there was no penalty called because our team needed to score and the power play would have helped, not because he took a cheap shot which hurt like heck.

I thought I could still draw the penalty, so I called the guy exactly what I thought he was… a clown.

He flipped out.  He said to me, “What? You called me a clown?”

“Yes” I replied. “You’re a Clown! Who else knees someone in the thigh while they are chasing someone… a clown.  It suits your playing style and ability since they’re both a joke.”

He thought about it, and laughed.

I took two or three steps away from him – walking towards the bench – when I turned, looked back at him and said “I HATE clowns.”

He flipped out.

The referee stepped in to keep him from getting to me, and he was yelling all kinds of stuff but all I heard was, “blah, blah, blah.”  He eventually got a penalty for unsportsmanlike conduct.  I was sore, but all smiles on the bench.

The rest of the game he kept his distance from me.

So I told this story to my kids – explaining how I didn’t fight, or try to hurt him, because that is not nice, and I didn’t yell or swear at him, because we don’t do that.  I expected a meaningful dialogue about respect, sportsmanship, and playing hard but not going over the edge, or about keeping emotions in check… But instead I got this question right away;

“Daddy, if you don’t like clowns did you like former WWF (now WWE) wrestler Doink the Clown?”

“No”, I said. “Only when he turned bad and became evil Doink.”

Then this came out of my mouth…

“I mean clowns might as well be called what they really are… Jerks. I mean who else hides their face under white make-up, a wig and a fake nose so that they can spray water in your face or make you shake their hands where they have the hand buzzer… A jerk does that.”

My other son then asked; “What about Dink? Doink’s son?”

I replied, “I think naming a wrestler “dink” is always a bad idea since when I was growing up a “dink” was either the name kids called their penis or a name for a small metal car (dinky cars).”

“So Dink was a penis?” my brilliant child asks?

“No”, I said. “It’d be like saying Penis’ Penis… Oh, forget it.”

Then I changed the topic.